


Sometimes the Cure is Worse

by Valeria2067



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Major Illness, Mentions of Cancer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 20:39:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valeria2067/pseuds/Valeria2067
Summary: Castiel finds out an injury is much more serious than he first thought, and the potential cure is incredibly difficult to endure.





	Sometimes the Cure is Worse

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: I’m starting chemotherapy soon, and it scares me much more than the surgeries or even the prospect of dying ever did. I wrote this to have Cas express how I feel, and how thankful I am for my very own Dean, @idratherbereading.

Imagine holy fire ripping through your body, scorching it but not consuming. Pain, disorientation, fear, increasing unexpectedly, decreasing for a moment, then flaring up again in every organ, every blood vessel. It’s the worst thing Cas can conceive of, aside from losing Dean or Jack.

And if it weren’t for them, Cas would never force himself to endure it. His life had been long enough, his vessel by all rights should have ceased to exist years ago. But the illness Castiel found himself facing hadn’t only attacked his vessel; it had attacked his grace as well.

At first it was merely a wound that healed too slowly, hurt too much. Cas had been nicked by a blade that had blood on it from killing one of Michael’s archangel-infused demon-vamp experiments. 

“Think of a veil,” Rowena had told them when Dean and Sam called her, “Or, no, let’s say a membrane, that binds Castiel’s grace to his human form. The altered demon blood damaged it. Only a wee portion of it, mind, but it can still spread. If your angel doesn’t undergo a series of specific rituals, the damage might grow until it’s too much to stop.”

“And then, what,” asked Dean, his eyes darting from Rowena to Cas and back; “We find him a new vessel? I mean, there’s gotta be someone out there who’d agree, right?” 

Castiel knew what Rowena would say. “No, dear. If this kind of damage were to spread, no vessel could withstand it. Castiel would cease to exist. There would be nothing left of him -angel or human - to bring back.”

Cas could see the color drain from Dean’s face. 

Before Dean could speak, Cas asked, calmly, “How likely is it that the damage will even spread at all?” He knew already what he series of rituals entailed; he’d seen a few other angels from his garrison endure it - or try to endure it. One had died anyway. One had lived. One had gone mad from the pain. 

“Ooh, it’s hard to tell, isn’t it? I’d wager with an angel as strong as you are, as early as we’ve caught it, there’s a sixty percent chance you’ll be just fine.” It was meant to sound reassuring.

It wasn’t. 

Dean told Rowena and Sam to gather what they needed and be ready to start the rituals ASAP. 

Two days later, Castiel heard that Sam and Rowena had everything and were only an hour or two away. Rowena wanted Cas to get ready to start as soon as she arrived. In Cas’s room, Dean helped him take off his trench coat and suit jacket, threw them over the back of a chair.

Cas unbuttoned his white shirt himself, lifted his undershirt a bit, and ran a hand over the small scar on his side. It was healing well. Perhaps there was a way to avoid the agony of the rituals. He smoothed the fabric down again.

“Dean, even without this….process…. there’s still a very good chance–”

“Yeah, well, very good just isn’t good enough, Cas. Not for this.” Dean placed a hand on Cas’s shoulder, looked him directly in the eye. “You nearly died. And I know you’d rather go through anything than what’s coming - hell, I’d feel the same - but if there’s any of that… that poison or whatever still in you, we have to fix it now, while we can still beat the damn thing.”

Cas could tell by the set of Dean’s jaw that arguing with him would be pointless, so he merely took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Once we begin, it will take weeks to complete all of the required rituals. Some require a few days rest in between. Some will last for several hours. The effects they will have on me may be…disturbing, Dean. You might want to be elsewhere.” Cas could feel his eyes begin to well with tears, and he hated himself for it.

Dean moved his hand from Cas’s shoulder to the side of Cas’s neck. “Hey… hey, look at me. I’m gonna be right here with you, okay? You and me, together. All the way. Got that?”

Cas felt his throat tighten up, and all he could do in that instant was nod.

“All I care about is you staying alive. Staying with me. Because I love you, Cas.”

Castiel's throat got tighter and the teardrops started to flow. Somehow, he found just enough voice to whisper, “I love you, too, Dean.”


End file.
